Sea Stories: Chapter 1

Oblivious to the subtle interaction, Cecillia does what she does best: Pull out her Dulcimer and quietly sings to pass the time.

"Guard your temples from destruction
Make sure no one goes inside..."

Oxandren hears the call to sail and he too, cracks a smile. His eyes were not as keen as some of the others on the ship, but he knew what that call meant and he knew a vessel would be on them shortly. Nothing brought him more joy than boarding a ship and watching pirates flee as they felt the wrath of Valkur. Even now as he waited, his eyes sparked with lightning flashes and the smell of ozone emanated from him in all directions. He fastened his shield to his arm and stood ready at the rail.

Miri casts a curious glance up from her book. "We are to fight?" she inquires to no one in particular. "How dramatic." Her tone is almost sarcastic, but anyone who knows her well enough knows its simply theatrical. With a whip, she snaps her book shut. With a practiced twirl she fastens it to two buckles on her belt. Her showboating out of the way, she looks out over the sea to assess their opponents.

Over the next five minutes, there's a flurry of activity as sailors rush from belowdecks to their stations at various points on the ship. Those with access to spyglasses can just start to make out the details of the ship on the horizon. The ship is dark and currently has no flag raised that you can see, though they are under full sail. Both crafts are sailing perpendicular to the wind at this point, with the breeze coming off your port side, towards the islands.

Helane calls out across the decks, Make ready the mangonel! Make sure the ballista has bolts aplenty! All hands prepare to repel boarders!

You can see Oriesli, the hill dwarf bosun's mate, pick up a heavy stone along with Dread, the tiefling deckhand. They wrestle it into the oil-sealed basket of the fore-mounted weapon. A flurry of human deckhands rush forward, gripping the lines of the mangonel, ready to launch the projectile on orders.

About ten feet in front of the mangonel, more of the deckhands pull the heavy canvas cover off the crew-sized bow of their ballista, while two carpenters rose from belowdecks carrying the massive bolts the weapon was known for.

Distance between craft: 11,500 feet

After extinguishing the cook fires, Zale returns topside to await battle orders. Eyes focused on the enemy ships, he takes a big drink from his flask.

Cecillia remains in place during the flurry of activity, her strumming quickens, becoming almost frantic. Finally she stows her dulcimer, staring intently at the approaching ship.

Srisa glances over at Zale and reads his mind.

She resists the urge to dive into the water, summon her royal seahorse war mount, and charge off to battle. She would do this the surface world way.

Exiting from his chambers onto the deck. "What happened. I was only in there for 5 minuites?" He begins to shout orders at the crows nest. "Keep vigil on that ship. Call out distance and for the sake of the gods let us know the flag this time."

Another five minutes passes by, both in a rush and taking forever all at the same time. The ships continue to close, those with height or tool support can see that the incoming ship still has no flag flying. Commands have been silent for the most part, though one of the topmen calls out from above, I make it a little over a mile out Cap'n! No colors flown!

Helane curses and storms to her cabin, returning in short order with her cutlass strapped to her waist.

It looks like we'll have a chance to blood the crew sooner than I'd hoped. MISTER ARITI, TAKE TO THE HELM, COORDINATE OUR APPROACH! she barks quickly, moving to the bow, spyglass in hand.

Distance between craft: 7,000 feet

He rushes to the wheel. "Aye, Captain." His demeanour now much more serious. "Load the starboard. Steady your blades but make ready to be boarded mates."

Oxandren quietly hummed a sea shanty to himself, and song that he sometimes sang while in battle. He waited patiently and says to the crew "Valkur smiles on us and is with us this day."

A dull thud, followed by muffled curses, is heard coming from one of the lifeboats. The canvas cover is thrown aside, and a hungover halfling pops up, rubbing his head where he hit it waking up. "What the hell is with all the fucking commotion?! Ow, my bloody head!" For a sailor, Roscoe Silversail has never been very good with the drink. He tumbles out of the lifeboat and onto the deck. "Dammit, Zale, that brew of yours is the shi---WHOA! Are we under attack?!?!" Sweeping his fine but well worn coat aside, Roscoe draws his rapier and licks his lips. If there's one thing the scrappy halfling loves, it's a good fight.

Kraken take me now... Cecillia approaches the good captain, moving between the working bodies. "Is there something I should do Captain?" She asks eagerly, ready to please.

Srisa, acting as the ship's surgeon and a good friend, intercepts Roscoe.

"Roscoe, there you are! You alright?"

She looks over his head for any signs of trauma and beams a smile at him when she finds none.